Two Starry Poems for Igor

We had already told each other
our first loves,
girls we made love
for the first time.

I said, it’s up to you
tell me how you started
drinking
or writing.

Same story, he said,
one evening I left home,
I walked to the fields
not to the work.

It was summer,
stars were unloading
the creation of space
to the night.

A scarlet poppy was
like a bullet wound
on the dark green shirt of
Skopje fields.

I laid down on the warm grasses,
next to the poppy.
I stared at the night.

For the first time I saw the stars
not as the null subject of loneliness
but the scribble of the space.

I must have oozed out
and stars poured
in my open mouth.

Next day, at the sun set
stars started to talk:
There is a gale in the mountains Igor
come with us Igor,
we will chase the night again,
we are all made of past Igor,
you will not weep for long Igor,

write what you want
the way you want it.

Stars verses were howling
in my head
like a rainless sea.

I started to drink
because
I was afraid.

When I drink
stars were getting
even more boisterous
but at least I could manage
not to consider them
and stars were always
oozing out before me.

I went to bed.
Igor wrote
Seagulls Above Rooftops:

this evening:
seagulls above rooftops,
opened walls, balconies,
and that song again, out of nowhere.
I never told him how I started writing,
there’s no justice in the sky.
in the nights above Istanbul. and at all.